


Let Me Take Care of You

by DragonHeartstring360



Series: Inheritance Cycle [3]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Murtagh x Reader, Mutual Pining, Other, POV Second Person, Past Possible Murtagh x Nasuada, Poisoning, Rider!Reader - Freeform, Same Universe as Safe & Warm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonHeartstring360/pseuds/DragonHeartstring360
Summary: Murtagh takes care of you as you recover from being attacked with a poisoned blade during battle.





	Let Me Take Care of You

**Author's Note:**

> Y/N: your name; D/N: dragon's name. Set in the same universe as "Safe & Warm," with Eragon's Riders Academy on a renovated Vroengard, where Rider!Reader and their dragon reside, along with Murtagh and Thorn. During this fic, Murtagh, Thorn, the Reader and their dragon are out on an important field mission for Eragon (if that isn't obvious within the fic). You can follow me for updates and submit requests at my tumblr @murtagh-thorn. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

You could feel yourself being carried, but everything felt too hazy to be sure. You knew there had been heard voices at some point…But all you had the energy to do was sleep. Your body felt heavy, has if someone had tied each limb to a separate sack of bricks. You remembered traveling along the outskirts of Dras-Leona with Murtagh while Thorn and your own dragon flew overhead. All had been unsettlingly quiet until the hooded men had seemed to jump out from around every possible hiding place. There had been a man with a more ornate cloak than the others, his sword slicked with a sticky, black goop. It was a hard, long fight to kill them all. Just when you thought it was safe and you and Murtagh dropped your guard, the man with the black-coated sword had jumped up from the ground, swinging his sword around to Murtagh’s back. You’d panicked and shoved your friend—well, _more_ than a friend if you were being honest with yourself—out of the way. The man’s sword had slashed against your side. The cut wasn’t deep and Murtagh had cut him down quickly after.

Murtagh had rushed to your side afterwards, demanding to examine the wound. Although you’d both used many spells during the skirmish that had drained your energy and left a healing spell difficult to cast, he had still insisted on patching you up. You’d waved away his concerns—the cut wasn’t deep and you felt fine. It was barely a graze. Besides, you both had work to do. Eragon was awaiting your success and there wasn’t a moment to lose.

You’d both mounted your horses once again, your dragons checking in with you both from above. You were all trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, which wouldn’t work if the people of Dras-Leona noticed two dragons barreling down towards the edge of the lake. Besides, it was nothing you and Murtagh couldn’t handle.

Unfortunately, you’d realized how much you _couldn’t_ handle it when the world suddenly began to spin around you and the heavy feeling in your muscles started. A wave of nausea overtook you and you were suddenly freezing underneath all your travel leathers and cloak. You could feel yourself slipping from your horse’s saddle as the world grew dark, Murtagh’s voice calling out your name frantically.

You felt something soft beneath you and tried to make out the voices you heard around you, but it ended up sounding like the buzzing of bees and made your head sting. You tried to open your eyes, but quickly found how much of a mistake that was. Everything was much too bright and blurry. The buzzing voices grew louder and you could make out a shape with a mop of shaggy, dark hair suddenly lunging towards you. You tried to force your eyes to focus, but that only seemed to make things worse. Unable to hold on any longer, you let the heaviness overtake you.

* * *

 

You awoke awhile later—you weren’t sure how long it had been—to the soft pattering of rain against the roof, a plush mattress and soft sheets enveloping you. Your head ached, but the pounding from before was gone. You warily opened your eyes, but the room easily came into focus. You looked to be in the room of an inn. The large bed, easily big enough for two people, dominated the center of the room. Two nightstands stood on either side of you, holding lamps that cast a soft, homely light over the room. A desk and chair with some quills and parchment sat in front of a large picture window overlooking a lamplit courtyard two stories below. The light of day had long since faded, but you could make out raindrops dripping down the glass. Opposite the bed, a slightly ajar door led into what you assumed was a washroom of sorts. Next to the door sat a plush couch and your breath caught when you noticed the person lounging on it: Murtagh.

Your heart jumped into your throat at the way his dark hair stuck every which way to the throw pillow he’d laid his head on. He’d kicked off his boots and a blanket covered him, his feet peeping out at the end of the sofa that wasn’t quite long enough for his height. A book lay open on his stomach, his hand still clutching it as soft snores poured from his slightly open mouth. He looked completely disheveled and even a tad ridiculous, but you still relished the sight.

You slowly sat up, wincing as your muscles screamed in protest. It felt like your dragon and Thorn had taken turns sitting on you for multiple hours. You frowned, glancing at the size of the bed you were in. Whoever had lain you down—most likely Murtagh; the thought made the heat rise to your cheeks—had placed you in the very center of the bed with an army of blankets and pillows. But the bed had plenty of room to fit both of you. Why had Murtagh taken the couch? And why was there a book in his hand? Had he been planning on staying up?

You threw off the covers, shivering at the sudden cold. A small brazier stood at the foot of your bed and you gently put your feet on the floor, shuffling your way over. Someone had stripped you of your leathers and you stood clad in your skimpy under-clothes. A bulge stood out on your side and you lifted your shirt to find a bandage wrapped around your middle where the bandit’s sword had nicked you. You remembered the black gunk coating the man’s blade and shuddered: poison. But you didn’t regret pushing Murtagh out of the way for a second. Better him than you.

 _And what about me?_ your dragon growled in your mind.

You wince. You should’ve known this would be coming sooner or later. _D/N…_

_Don’t ‘D/N’ me! What would you have me do if that poison had worked?_

_What was I supposed to do, let Murtagh possibly die?_

_And what am_ I _supposed to do if you_ do _die? You would leave me here alone?! Have you no thought for the ones who care about you, the ones you’ll leave behind to grieve if something happens to you?!_

You hear a roar in the distant sky. _Hush! We’re trying to remain hidden! We still have work to do!_

A low grumble like thunder fills the sky, but you imagine it’s anything but. Your dragon quiets themselves, although you can still feel their anger and worry heavy in your mind.

You sigh. _I’m sorry, D/N. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise._

 _If there_ is _a next time and you survive, I’ll kill you myself._

 _I really am sorry. I just saw that man lunging at Murtagh and I couldn’t…_ You turn to look at your close friend, still snoring away on the couch, and feel your chest ache. You don’t want to give yourself false hope; he could never look at you the same, could he? There had been rumors floating around that before he’d left for the wilderness, he and Queen Nasuada had shared many heated gazes. He had gone out of his way to keep her alive during her imprisonment by Galbatorix, after all…And he’d admitted that before you and Eragon had found him and convinced him to help with Eragon’s Rider’s Academy on Vroengard, he’d spoken at length to Nasuada and “figured things out.” Maybe he was even in a secret relationship with her.

Your dragon sighed. _Little one…Trust me when I say he and Nasuada are not together_.

You frowned, another shiver wracking your body. You took a step closer to the brazier, holding your hands out towards the heat. _How do you know?_

_Thorn told me. Murtagh did had feelings for her in the past…But after what happened between them in Galbatorix’s dungeons, it…complicated things. I know not what happened between them, but if the former tyrant is involved, I can only imagine it was far from pleasant. When Murtagh said he ‘worked things out’ with her, he meant that he and Nasuada decided they could never be together._

_How did you hear about this, but not me?_

_Thorn was upset and needed someone to listen. He’s a good friend. I do not know if Murtagh knows he told me this…and I only tell you because I hate to see you so anguished._

_Do you…know if he still has any feelings for her?_

_I think whatever feelings either of them had for each other were squashed by whatever Galbatorix put them through. Plus, she is queen now and much of the land stills sees him as a traitor. The people would not take kindly to finding out one of their most loved and most hated were in a relationship together. Even if they kept it secret, that sort of thing always surfaces eventually._ D/N paused. _But…I believe the bond he shares with you is…different. Strong and steady in a way that his bond with the queen wasn’t. You have a more similar background to him, you understand betrayal more, unfortunately_. A hint of sadness entered your dragon’s voice and you did your best to send a wave of comfort towards them. D/N hummed in approval and sent a wave of love back towards you. _He cares about you. Deeply…Don’t tell him I told you this, but Thorn told me that sometimes, Murtagh feels you and his dragon are the only things holding him together_.

You glanced sadly at the man on the couch. His face seemed so peaceful, free of the worried lines that usually graced his handsome face. Although the dark circles were still visible in the light of the room, he looked much more relaxed than you’d seen him in…well, ever.

Loud, hacking coughs suddenly wracked your body. You gripped the footboard of the bed to avoid faceplanting into the brazier, the motion forcing you to turn your back to Murtagh.

“Y/N!” Murtagh was awake and at your side in an instant, a glass of water in his hand. He put an arm around your shoulders and held the glass up to your lips. You grasped the glass with the other hand, your fingers brushing his. If you weren’t so focused on regaining your breath, you might’ve felt a small thrill go through you. After you’d had your fill, you nodded and Murtagh pulled the glass away, still keeping a strong arm around your shoulders.

“What are you doing out of bed?” he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. “Did you get cold? Do you need more blankets?”

You shook your head. You didn’t miss the fact that the only blanket not piled on your bed was the one Murtagh was using. Cold or no, you wouldn’t let him offer you the only blanket he’d kept for himself. “Just wanted to…” you cleared your throat, surprised at how sore and hoarse it was, “stretch my legs.”

“You need rest,” Murtagh insisted.

You met his eyes for the first time since he woke, noting the dark circles once again. His grey eyes were bright in the darkness despite their shadows and for a moment, you lost yourself. He stared back with just as much intensity. The words suddenly tumbled from your mouth before you could think them through: “Did you undress me?”

Murtagh’s eyes went wide and even in the dim light, you could clearly see his face bloom a hilarious shade of pink. “Um…” He dropped his hand from your shoulder and his eyes scanned up and down your body for a brief moment, lingering on the way your underclothes hugged your curves. The fabric was thin, the pants tightly hugging your rear, the straps of the sleeveless top you wore barely the width of a finger. The fabric didn’t cover much of your chest and hugged your sides snuggly. Murtagh quickly looked away and you hugged yourself, suddenly feeling very exposed. You tried to look anywhere else and your eyes landed on the washroom door. You could see clearly into it now and the nice, large tub suddenly seemed to call out your name.

“I, uh…” Murtagh’s voice consumed your attention as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He cleared his throat. “You were poisoned and the village healer I found insisted that…we would need to remove your…layers for him to remove the poison properly. He said, since the cut was so close to the surface, drawing the poison out would be easier than trying to force the antidote into your system while you were incapacitated.”

Another chill went down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold temperature in the room. “Leeches?”

“Yes.”

“ _Bleck_.”

Murtagh chuckled, finally meeting your eyes again. His face fell. “I would’ve used my magic, but…”

“Our mana is still drained. I understand.”

He nodded, turning his gaze to the floor. A muscle near his jaw bounced. “Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice suddenly hard.

You met his gaze and sighed. “What was I supposed to do, let him stab you?”

“ _Yes_.”

“No!”

“Better me than you, Y/N.”

“You’ve got that backwards.”

He stared at you for a moment, his face contorting in anger. “No, I don’t. If we weren’t so close to Dras-Leona and if the local healer hadn’t so graciously agreed to wake up, leave his home and come help me, then you might be _dead_ right now.”

“Oh, so it would’ve been better to let _you_ possibly die?” You let your annoyance creep into your voice. He was so stubborn, so sure he wasn’t worth anything and it broke your heart and annoyed the shit out of you all at once.

“I’m not worth dying for!”

“I think you are!” You let your voice rise. “When are you going to realize there are people who care about you, Murtagh?”

You watched as annoyance, hurt and a flash of something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint fought for dominance on his face. It almost looked like…no, he probably didn’t see you that way.

You coughed again and all annoyance fled from his face as he rushed back over to you. You waved off his concerns. “I’m fine.”

“Do you need anything?”

You noted how close he was to you. _You_ , you wanted to say, but restrained yourself. Your dragon might have revealed that Murtagh cared about you “deeply,” but he couldn’t care like _that_ …could he? “I, um…” You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away from his full bottom lip. “I think I’ll…I’m going to take a bath. You can go back to sleep. Feel free to take some of my blankets, I have more than enough.”

You let go of the footboard of the bed. You hadn’t even realized you’d still been holding onto it. Your steps towards the washroom were wobbly, your limbs still sore and heavy. You stumbled and would’ve hit the floor if Murtagh hadn’t caught you. You instinctually grabbed his arm for support, feeling the warmth of muscle under his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, gently picking you up and carrying you back to the bed. “Wait here. I’ll take care of it.”

“But you need sleep—”

“What is it you always say? ‘Sleep is for the weak’?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, unable to contain a smile. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“Just wait here. Your body’s been through a shock. Let me take care of you.” He gently kissed your forehead and seemed as surprised by the action as you were. He quickly disappeared out into the hallway and you let yourself lean back against the pillows once more.

Your doze was occasionally interrupted by the sounds of Murtagh coming and going with buckets of water, pouring them into the tub. You heard him murmur in the ancient language before his footsteps stopped in front of you, gently shaking your shoulder. “The water’s nice and warm.”

Before you could reply, he gently lifted you up once more, setting you down by the tub. You nodded to let him know you were all right to stand on your own and he smiled softly at you, gently pulling the washroom door to behind him. You stripped and let yourself sink into the warm water, sighing in content. He had gotten the water the perfect temperature.

You took your time washing your body and hair—as if you could move quickly anyway. You had nearly fallen asleep in the warm water when a knock startled you.

“Y/N?” Murtagh called. “You’ve been in there awhile. Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” you replied before he could rush in—although a small part of you hoped he would—maybe in as much of a state of undress as you? You shook your head to clear it.

The door opened a few inches and he pushed in several towels and fresh clothes with his foot. “I’m not sure how well this will fit, but it was all I could find on such short notice.”

“Oh, well, thank you. I’ll be out in a minute.”

The door closed once again and you quickly dried, slipping your underwear back on. You pulled the fresh white shirt over your head and it swallowed you, practically hanging down to your knees. It looked rather familiar…You took a quick sniff, confirming your suspicions.

Your dragon chuckled sleepily in your mind. _Your pining is so loud, it woke me up, human. Should I be concerned that you can identify Murtagh’s clothes by his scent?_

 _Just shut up_. The v-neck of the shirt—which barely went down two inches past Murtagh’s neck—exposed much of your chest. Not enough to risk… _things_ accidentally showing themselves, but the shirt kept slipping down off your one shoulder. Murtagh had also failed to give you any pants. You debated for a moment, then decided you were too tired. Besides, if Murtagh was still awake, this might help determine whether he really only saw you as a friend or just how “deeply” he cared about you.

 _Mm, conniving, are we?_ D/N teased.

 _You’re lucky you’re out of reach of my arm_.

D/N chuckled before you made your way back into the room. Murtagh was lounged on the couch, deep in his book. He glanced at you as you emerged, blushing furiously before going back to his book. You sat your dirty clothes and towels on the edge of the bed, glancing at the bright red face that was pointedly _not_ looking at you. Could he really…?

You yawned, noting the moon high in the sky peeking between clouds at a sudden gust of wind. The latch on the window shuddered before giving way and the glass smacked against the wall. You shivered as the wind hit your back, blowing your hair to obscure your face. Murtagh was up in an instant, slamming the window and the shutters closed. You turned back to the pile of clothes in front of you, trying to sort out the towels from your underclothes so you could quickly wash them before slipping back into your bed. You felt far too exhausted, but they needed to dry overnight—

“Let me take care of those.” Murtagh’s hand suddenly covered yours, his hand rising to the small of your back.

“I can…” You trailed off as you turned to him, distracted as his hand tenderly pulled the shirt back up to cover your shoulder. The look on his face was so gentle that you nearly cried at the sight. His hand followed up the trail of your shoulder to brush your hair out of your eyes. He was so close…

 _Damn it_ , you thought to yourself, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him to you. His lips crashed into yours and for an agonizingly long moment, he stood tense, his lips frozen against yours. Maybe that wasn’t the best move after all…

Your worries fled as he relaxed, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you flush against him, the other hand tangling in your hair. You nearly melted against him. He was a _damn good_ kisser. Perhaps growing up in Galbatorix’s court had its perks?

His fingers wove through your damp hair as your hands trailed down his back. You could feel the bump of his long, ropey scar underneath his clothes before you braved his own unruly locks for yourself. They were softer than you expected and you gave an experimental tug. He groaned against your mouth, holding you tighter and kissing you harder.

You pulled away and turned your head as another bout of coughing shook you. Murtagh gently eased you into the bed. “You need rest.” His fingers gently traced your jaw as you settled against the pillows, pulling the covers up over your shoulder. You scooted towards the right side of the bed. “At least sleep in an actual bed.” Despite the longing look he gave you, you could tell he was about to open his mouth to protest, ever the gentleman. “Stay with me?” you begged. “Please?”

He chuckled. “How can I refuse when you give me _that_ look?”

“What look?” you asked innocently.

He mock-glared at you. “You know.” Nevertheless, he climbed in after you, snuggling up against your back with his arm slung over your waist. He buried his face in your hair as you leaned back against him, his weight a comfort after the shock your body had gone through.

 _Told ya_ , D/N said triumphantly.

 _Just be quiet_ , you scolded fondly, entwining your finger’s with your new-found lover’s before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
